In the week leading up to Christmas, Harry's spare time was mostly filled with talking to Draco.

Of course, only the spare time in between all the marking essays, occasional visits to Hagrid's hut, several Floo calls (a couple to Teddy and Andromeda, one to Ron and Hermione, and another to Molly and Arthur), and frantically assuring that he had Christmas presents for everyone.

Harry was reluctant to admit it, but since there were no classes over the break, it was getting more difficult to keep up the pretence that he and Draco talked solely to brag to each other, and their conversations were slowly starting to slide in an unsettlingly regular direction.

He had mostly settled in to calling the other teachers by their given names by now, but it still felt too strange to think of them as equals when most of them had been teachers when he was a student, and the few who hadn't were old enough to have been. He tried to be friendly, but he couldn't help just being distantly cordial. For now, at least, anything more personal just felt too weird to him, and he suspected Draco felt the same, if his similar behaviour was any indication.

So, he supposed he was stuck with Draco for now, looking up and wondering from time to time how it was he got here, chatting amicably with Draco bloody Malfoy about the Ministry Of Magic actually seeming competent for once under the current administration, or the outlook for their favourite professional Quidditch teams this year, or how Neville may be returning to his post as Herbology professor next year, or any other given mundanity. Wondering and perhaps thinking he may have gone a bit mad.

If he had gone mad, though, at the very least it seemed to have spared every other facet of his life, so he probably couldn't complain too much.

~*~

On Christmas Eve, he sent off a few poor, overburdened school birds with gifts for Hermione, Ron, the rest of the Weasleys, Andromeda, and Teddy, since he had already long sent his gifts to Luna and Neville in an attempt to ensure they made it all the way to South America by Christmas.

Then, after dinner, he made his way through the snow to Hagrid's hut.

"Harry!" Hagrid greeted him jubilantly, flinging the door open almost as soon as he knocked. "Oh, yeh didn' have ter do tha'," he said, when Harry offered up the lumpy parcels in his hands toward him. "Come in, come in, let's sit down, I'll put the kettle on. I've got a present fer yeh as well."

Harry followed him inside and sat down, laying the gifts on the table as Hagrid busied himself making tea.

"Did yeh talk ter Ron an' Hermione today?" Hagrid asked, while the kettle heated over the fire.

"Yeah, they're doing well. They said to tell you happy Christmas."

"Good, good, tell 'em I said so too," Hagrid said, setting out two teacups on the table and spooning in some tea leaves. "They sent me a real nice bottle o' firewhiskey, an' I wish I could thank 'em in person fer it instead o' jus sending a measly owl. Sometimes I miss jus having yeh three kids still up there in the castle, but times change quick, an' I suppose there's some pretty good tradeoffs ter be had here too if we don' have ter worry abou' You-Know-Who hanging over our heads anymore!" He chuckled.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Sometimes I miss it too, but then I remember all the stress I'm conveniently forgetting and I'm like, right, no, this is quite nice, actually."

Hagrid let out a louder guffaw as the kettle started whistling, and he pulled on an oven mitt to grab it off the fire and bring it over to pour some water into each cup.

"Thanks," Harry said, as Hagrid passed him his cup.

"O' course! Hold on, I've got some biscuits too!" Hagrid went over to the (presumably now cold) oven of his wood stove and took out a plate of slightly burnt, uneven, star-shaped biscuits dusted in icing sugar, and brought them over to set on the table in front of Harry. "Made 'em fer Christmas; trying ter be seasonal an' all tha'. Get in the Christmas spirit, yeh know!"

Harry picked one up off the plate and took a bite. It was rather crunchy, and had the sort of smoky flavour one doesn't normally expect from a biscuit, but he'd definitely had worse. And they felt a lot less risky for his dental health than the rock cakes, so that was a definite plus to Harry.

"Thanks, Hagrid. These are really good," he said, taking another bite. Maybe if he complimented them enough, Hagrid would start making these more instead.

Hagrid beamed at him.

"Oh!" he said, before he could sit down. "Lemme get yeh your present!"

He turned and bustled over to a corner, where something suspiciously large and structured was draped in what looked to be the blanket from Hagrid's bed.

Dear Merlin, Harry hoped it wasn't something living. Or at least not something illegal, bloodthirsty, or generally dangerous and not pet material.

Before Harry's dread could build too much, though, Hagrid whipped the blanket off of the cage, and held his other hand out toward it, presenting it with a brilliant smile.

"Ta da! I figured, since yeh'd mentioned yeh'd never replaced poor Hedwig, I ought ter be the one ter do it, seeing as I got her fer yeh in the firs' place!"

The owl ruffled its speckled feathers in disgruntlement at the sudden change, but quickly settled again and pivoted its head from looking at Hagrid to fix Harry with big amber eyes.

It was a very nice-looking owl: medium-sized, fairly fluffy, and mostly brown, with a white face and underbelly, and white speckles on its wings. It didn't look much like Hedwig at all, and Harry thought that was probably for the best. I would be hard not to be heartsick looking at another snowy owl.

Harry swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat that he wasn't sure could be entirely attributed to Hagrid's dry biscuits.

"Thank you," he said. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, really. It's beautiful."

The owl hooted softly, as if in response.

Hagrid practically glowed with the praise and tossed the blanket aside, back onto his bed in the cramped hut, before opening the cage. "I'm glad yeh like her!" He leaned his head down to look at the owl. "Yeh wan' ter meet your new dad?"

Harry stood up and went over toward the cage, bringing the last bit of his biscuit with him and holding it out toward the owl.

She looked at it suspiciously for a moment, and then lunged forward and snatched it, quickly gobbling it down as she hopped right back out of reach.

"She's jus the sweetest little creature," Hagrid said fondly, reaching a finger out to stroke the side of her face while she continued staring at Harry suspiciously. "An' an excellent mouser, too," Hagrid added, like a proud parent.

Yeah, Harry thought he definitely had his work cut out for him with this one — but what else should he have expected from a gift from Hagrid? It could have been much worse.

"Well, that's good," Harry said. "Guess it can't hurt to have something to keep mice away in the castle. Do you want to open your presents now? Well, one is for Butcher."

"Ah, yeh didn' have ter do all tha'!" Hagrid followed him back over toward the table, and the owl ruffled her wings and huffily resettled perched atop the cage. "Poor pup, missing out on your visit! I had ter send 'im up ter the castle fer a bit because he was spooking this poor girl with all o' tha' jumping around. Little thing still hasn' quite settled inter himself yet."

Harry didn't know if the dog Hagrid had gotten after Fang had died could be called little in any reasonable sense of the word, but he supposed it was still fairly young, just a couple years old or so. He was pretty sure it was part crup too, but he didn't ask any questions about where Hagrid had gotten it — probably the less he knew the better, and it seemed to like him so it was alright.

Hagrid opened the parcels, and then wrapped Harry in a bone-crushing hug as he blubbered unnecessarily thankful tears at how nice Harry apparently was for giving him some of the choice meats Butcher liked (the very reason for his name), as well as a new kettle (as the old one had started to become rather battered indeed) and some toffee for himself.

Harry patted his back awkwardly until Hagrid finally let go and searched his pockets for a hanky before loudly blowing his nose into it.

"Yeh've always bin such a good lad. I remember when yeh were jus a baby, yeh were already so sweet an' i knew yeh'd grow up ter be summat great. How could yeh not, with your parents?"

"Er...thanks Hagrid," Harry said a bit awkwardly. But it was nice, even if he didn't know quite what to do with it.

Hagrid's nose trumpeted again as he blew it into the much-abused hanky, and then he pulled Harry into another crushing hug.

It took a bit longer this time, but he eventually relinquished his hold once again, and after having Harry eat a few more biscuits and coaxing the owl back into her cage, he finally sent Harry on his way.

"Happy Christmas, Hagrid," Harry said as he left, carrying the cage with both hands as the owl started to make heinous sounds and flapped her wings in irritation at being abducted by a stranger.

"Happy christmas, Harry. I'll see yeh tomorrow before the feast. Tell me when yeh name her. I'm gonna miss her."

"I will!" Harry waved and then quickly grabbed the cage again with his other hand as the bird shook it.

Now he just had to make it back to his fucking rooms with this thing. If it had its way, it'd probably wake up the entire castle.

He sighed resignedly as he trekked across the lawns, and finally cast a silencing spell when he neared the castle doors. The owl looked up at him through the bars with an incredibly accusing glare, giving a silent screech.

"I know, I know," he said. "Sorry. But people have to sleep, you know. I'll take it off tomorrow."

She didn't look at all satisfied by that.

He made it halfway up to his rooms, before he ran into Minerva (with the owl, sadly, still flapping and making a fuss in her cage).

"Ah, well this brings back old memories," Minerva said wryly. "When else have I seen you skulking around at night, reportedly with a mysterious caged animal?"

Harry laughed. "This one is legal, I swear. Hagrid got me a new owl, I just don't think she likes me very much yet."

"Oh dear." Minerva failed to sound very sympathetic. "Well, since I've run into you tonight, I may as well go ahead and tell you my gift for the staff instead of waiting until tomorrow before the feast."

"Oh?" he asked.

"You may all have free rein of The Three Broomsticks tomorrow, my treat — order whatever you'd like."

"Oh, wow, thank you!" Harry said enthusiastically.

Minerva inclined her head. "Well, there are only seven of you, and Filius can't hold his liquor, so I don't think it will bankrupt me."

Harry snorted. "Still, that's very generous. Thanks."

She nodded again. "Feel free to inform Draco or any of the other staff if you should see them before the gift exchange. I should be getting to bed now; it's late."

With that, she left Harry to wrestle his new owl up the stairs on his own, but he was even more excited for the coming day now, dreaming of making the trek to Hogsmeade and warming up with a nice butterbeer, just like when he was a teenager.

~*~

In the morning, Harry awoke to a giant parcel from Mrs Weasley at the foot of his bed. She had, true to form, included a hand-knitted jumper and an array of sweets, including several mince pies, and Harry made the executive decision that it was worth it to make himself sick by eating four for breakfast.

Hermione and Ron had sent him a book on cursed object identification, as well as one on curse-breaking (clearly Hermione's idea, though the note tucked into the curse-breaking one said that Bill had recommended it), and a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey (Ron's contribution).

He also, predictably, got an array of new products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes from George along with another invitation to stop in any time, and a shed dragon scale from Charlie that he said was from Norberta. He seemed to find the idea of sending reminders of the Hungarian Horntail to Harry very funny, and Harry wasn't going to ruin his fun; plus, dragon products were valuable anyway. Maybe Draco would want to powder it for a potion or something.

Ginny had sent him an engraved wooden scroll organiser for the top of his desk, too. He thought that was quite nice, all things considered — he had been unsure if he should send anything at all, but had ultimately sent her a scarf he'd thought was pretty: dark blue and soft, with an enchanted white rabbit design that leapt about from end to end as it pleased.

He had to say, his favourite gift, though, was probably the one he didn't actually receive at all. He didn't know what they had tried to send him, but instead of a parcel, he received a notice letter from the owl post saying that the attempted delivery from one Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom had been seized, as it violated Ministry importation laws, as clearly evidenced by its failure to properly pass the wards. He had laughed at that for two whole minutes before deciding maybe it would be better to just not tell them. He wasn't sure he wanted to end up with something that did pass the wards but still sprayed stink sap or something, like that dreadful plant of Neville's from fifth year.

A close second favourite, though, was his present from Teddy, which was a colourful drawing Teddy had made of the two of them riding a dragon, which he said in his sloppily scrawled note that Andromeda had helped charm to make it move. Harry smiled at the big grin on the flapping dragon's face, and decided to immediately dig up the roll of Spellotape he knew he had around here somewhere and hang the picture on his wall. Andromeda had sent along well wishes of her own as well as a book on vampires written by a vampire themself, which Harry thought could actually be quite useful and provide some insight not gotten from the usual texts on vampires written by witches and wizards who were either merely studying or hunting them.

After he finished opening his gifts, he finally got himself dressed and headed to the kitchens to try to grab something for his new owl. He wanted to try feeding her before he tried letting her out, and since she didn't seem overly fond of him yet, maybe it was a good thing he'd made himself sick on the mince pies, since he'd definitely like to save himself the embarrassment of attempting that in the Great Hall.

He didn't have anything in particular he had to do yet besides fuss with the owl anyway — most of the other teachers had left for the holidays, but the ones who remained had planned to exchange gifts in the staffroom before the evening feast.

Harry hadn't exactly been sure what to get them at first, and that had been when he'd discovered his dilemma: he hadn't the first clue what to do about Draco. They weren't friends — he was pretty sure Draco wouldn't consider him a friend either — but they did talk quite a bit. Their relationship was one formed from lack of other options, and barely-this-side-of-friendly competition. Draco wasn't on the same level as the rest of the staff, but Harry hadn't been sure if he should get him something more or not. He hadn't even been sure what he was going to get the rest of the staff.

Eventually, though, he'd decided that a nice eagle feather quill would always be a safe bet for anyone, and he simply added some chocolate for Draco. Surely even Draco couldn't complain about chocolate, could he?

~*~

The owl had accepted his offerings of food, but still hadn't seemed to warm up to him much. Resignedly, though, he accepted that it was only the first day.

She took full advantage of it the moment he had taken the silencing charm off, and was screeching unholy noises, hopping around the window sill and ruffling her feathers. She looked quite soft and he'd have liked to pet her, but he didn't fancy getting pecked to death, so Harry supposed that would have to wait until she was a little more agreeable.

"Alright, I get it!" he said, and opened the window. "Off you go." She was already gone by the time he said it, and he let out a deep sigh.

He wasn't sure if she would come back, but hopefully eventually, right? Her cage was familiar...

Or at least if she didn't, he could probably find her at Hagrid's hut. Maybe if he just let her roam a bit, though, she'd be more comfortable with him.

He decided to go outside himself. Maybe he could walk around Hogsmeade for a bit, and then go get butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, like he'd been thinking last night.

Harry got bundled up, put an impervious charm on his glasses to keep away the snow, and headed out.

~*~

Harry wasn't even halfway to the Black Lake, when he heard his name being called.

"Harry!"

He turned at Draco's voice, and was immediately met with a facefull of snow and laughter.

Harry spluttered and batted the snow out of his face. "You absolute prat!"

Draco was still laughing at him a few metres away, and Harry hastily gathered up some snow and packed it together in his gloved hands, lunging toward him and lobbing it straight at his face.

Draco didn't seem to find it as funny when the snow was in his face.

"Oh, it's on, Potter," he said seriously, taking out his wand and kneeling down to start collecting snow. "You haven't any idea what you just walked into."

"Oh, I don't?" Harry shot back, starting to make another snowball of his own. "You're the one who started it!"

Pretty soon they were both covered in snow, in the middle of an all out war, and Harry was getting increasingly indignant over Draco's cheating with magic, because a snow barrier that constantly reformed itself, and snowballs that formed and pelted him themselves were so not in the spirit of the game.

"It's not cheating!" Draco protested, just as indignantly. "We're wizards, Potter! You can do it too! You can probably do more! Just put your mind to it!"

"It's not part of a proper snowball fight!" Harry insisted stubbornly, and then bodily plowed through Draco's snow shield, tackling him.

Draco laughed as they fell. "You are such a sore loser!"

They landed and Harry pinned him down with his legs and a hand on his shoulder, and grabbed a handful of snow to sprinkle it over his face, grinning triumphantly. "I don't think I'm the one who just lost."

Draco was still panting and red-faced from their fight, his winter hat half-fallen off and his hair fanned out around his head like a broken halo, and Harry had an errant thought that he looked pretty like that — there and then gone, almost before he even noticed it.

"Admit defeat," Harry pressed. "Surrender or get buried in snow."

Draco laughed again, though it sounded a bit more breathless this time, and he raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, you win. Can I get up now? I'm freezing my arse off."

Harry's triumphant smile broadened and he got to his feet, fixing his glasses and then holding his hand out to help pull Draco up and casting a wordless warming charm over him. "Yeah, c'mon, let's go to The Three Broomsticks and warm up. Minerva said she's treating today."

"Really?" Draco asked eagerly as he pulled his hat back down over his ears and brushed the snow off of himself, his defeat suddenly completely behind him with the promise of free butterbeer.

"Yeah. I ran into her last night coming back from Hagrid's and she told me."

"Brilliant. What the hell are we waiting for, then? You should have told me that earlier!"

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and yanked him along, towing him toward Hogsmeade, and Harry laughed, jogging slightly to catch up to Draco's sudden quick pace.

"I don't think the drinks are going anywhere, and we have the whole day still."

"Then why waste it?"

Harry just rolled his eyes fondly and shoved his hands in the pockets of his cloak as Draco finally let go of him.

~*~

They ended up spending several hours in The Three Broomsticks, drinking and talking, and eventually ordering lunch, before they finally left to wander around the rest of Hogsmeade.

Half of the shops were closed for Christmas (unfortunately including the menagerie, so Harry would have to pick up some treats for his new owl another time), but a few were still open, and they dipped in and out, browsing as they chatted.

"Oh..." Harry said, stopping at a display in the bookshop and picking up a book, reading out the title, "Ministry Mayhem: A Complete Encyclopaedia Of Ministry Of Magic Scandals, Blunders, & Mishaps Through The Ages. If I'd seen this before when I was shopping for gifts, I'd've gotten it for Hermione; this is exactly the sort of thing she'd love."

Draco stepped closer to look over his shoulder. "It looks pretty new. They may have just gotten it in. Maybe you could give it to her for her birthday or something?"

"'S not 'til September, but maybe." Harry put it back and then checked the time. "Why don't we head back to The Three Broomsticks for a bit before we go back?"

Draco tutted in mock disapproval. "Wow, really planning on bleeding Minnie dry, Harry."

"I was just going to have one drink! I just wanted to sit down somewhere."

Draco laughed and grabbed Harry's elbow, steering him out of the bookshop. "Sure. I wanted to have a firewhiskey anyway."

~*~

The exchange in the staffroom was a bit strange and formal, but it was nice enough. Only Harry, Draco, Minerva, Filius, Poppy, Septima Vector, Filch, and Hagrid were present.

Harry hadn't taken Arithmancy in school, so he had never really known Septima in the first place, but he couldn't decide whether that made it feel easier or harder to think about trying to become closer.

Minerva told the rest of them about her gift and the others started to chatter excitedly about heading up to The Three Broomsticks for drinks after the feast, and Harry glanced over at Draco, feeling like they shared a guilty, special little secret.

Really, it wasn't anything special — Minerva had said it was okay to tell anyone — but Draco met his eyes, and somehow Harry got the feeling he felt the same way.

Filius gave everyone bourbon chocolates that gave off tiny colourful fireworks when bitten, and Poppy gave a restorative draught. Septima gave out tiny hummingbird figurines that whistled and flashed the corresponding number on the side as the hour turned. Filch gave packets of Ice Mice, which certainly could have been something worse, so Harry wasn't going to complain about the lack of thoughtfulness. At least Mrs Norris wasn't there too.

Hagrid gave them all more of the star-shaped biscuits he'd given Harry the night before, which they accepted with grace.

Harry watched Draco closely for any sign of a sneer, but if he thought anything unpleasant about the biscuits, he hid it well, and Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He didn't know what he'd do if Draco was still rude to Hagrid, as he had been when they'd attended Hogwarts as students, but he certainly wouldn't be happy.

Draco had opted for personalised stationery, which could be switched with the tap of a wand and a simple incantation from personal to officially titled.

When Harry handed out his self-inking eagle feather quills directly after, Filius and Poppy both gave Minerva a significant look that Harry couldn't quite puzzle out, but which seemed to make Draco a little shifty, and which Minerva did an excellent job of pretending not to see (although Harry didn't believe for a second there was anything in this castle she didn't see, let alone right in front of her face).

Afterward, at the feast, Harry and Draco pulled wizard crackers together, and when a particularly ridiculous hat popped out, Draco picked it up and placed it on Harry's head, leaning over to speak quietly in his ear.

"Thank you for the chocolate earlier."

"Pity, Malfoy. It was the least I could do, considering the students vastly prefer my teaching to yours."

Draco tipped his head back and laughed, and Harry vaguely wondered if his butterbeer might be spiked, because he was fucking mesmerised by it.

All he could think was that chocolate was a very fitting gift indeed, because Draco's voice sounded like chocolate when he laughed like that: sweet and smooth and rich and addictive. The errant thought popped into Harry's head that it made him want to taste it, but he immediately dismissed it for the nonsensical absurdity it was.

Harry picked up his glass and looked speculatively into it, as if he might be able to see some difference in alcohol content by mere sight alone. Maybe it was spiked. A moment of drunken, mad thoughts.

"Harry." Draco put an absent hand on his arm, snatching away his attention again, and reading something out from a small slip of paper in his other hand that must have come from the wizard cracker. "Why didn't Merlin play Quidditch?"

"Er... Because it wasn't invented yet?" Harry tried.

Draco smacked his arm lightly. "Stop being boring! Because he didn't have the ball-ocks."

He laughed, and Harry couldn't help smiling back even though it wasn't even a very good pun, and a bit rude to be in crackers often opened by children.

Well, if he was drunk, he was at least enjoying himself.

He went to sleep that night with a smile on his face, and when he awoke in the morning, he didn't even have a trace of a hangover.

Funny, that. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle.